


Different

by Amorphe_Hexe



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Blood, Bullying, Child Death Mention, Coercion, Gen, Gore, Grooming, Minor Character Death, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorphe_Hexe/pseuds/Amorphe_Hexe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those around her had never seen anyone like Sally.</p>
<p>Most would never see another like her again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different

Different.

She’d always been _different_ , as long as she could remember. There were stories of people questioning her family when she was born – she was so _pale_ , so, _so_ pale, especially held against her parents.

And then she grew, hair whiter than her skin that curled tightly, radiantly blue eyes that absorbed everything around her.

The first book she ever picked up was a Book of the Light, and by the time she was six, she was reading it to her sisters any chance she got.

Sally was the youngest, of course. After her, her parents decided they couldn’t afford to feed any more mouths, and three children were more than enough to handle the sheep, help with the spinning and weaving and dying, and the eldest girl would travel with their father from Southshore all the way to the Capital City to peddle their fabrics.

Other children picked on her, occasionally. She was so _pale_ , didn’t the sun scorch her just from stepping outside? Her hair was so _white_ , it looked like a cloud around her head. She was _twiggy_ and _small_ and carried around her _Book_.

She was _different_.

And at first, she simply ran home and cried. She cried to her mother, and her sisters, and her father, and each of them told her the same thing.

“We love you, even if you’re different.”

_Different_.

Desperate for some sort of power, she captured flying insects and tore off their wings, teasing them with the curse of being different, and it exhilarated her. She convinced herself that these creatures deserved it, for being too slow to dodge her or too dumb to elude her.

Besides, they didn’t know the word of the Light. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

* * *

 

She was reading, at seven years old, sitting under a tree, while other children played. She heard their footsteps long before they reached her, and pretended to ignore them, though her hands trembled a little as she turned the page.

“You’re readin’ that book again, ain’tcha?” One boy asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious.

“Why d’ya read so much?” A girl asked, mockingly. “Is it cause you’ve got no friends?”

Sally ignored them.

“Hey, _white-mane_! Are you listening?” A boy threw a handful of leaves, and they scattered – in her hair, in her clothes, on her Book.

She snapped the Book shut and jumped to her feet, ready to run again, to escape their hateful sneering – she’d already turned to scramble away – when she heard a voice shout, “Hey! Leave her alone!”

She turned to the source of the voice – a tallish, blonde-haired boy of probably nine or ten, holding a wooden sword and looking angry. He swung his sword, and the other children scattered, leaving just the boy and Sally under the tree.

She shrunk back from him, clutching her Book, but he tossed his sword aside and put his hands up. “Hey, it’s okay! I couldn’t bear the thought of them hurting you. It’s not fair.” He offered her hand with a grin.

“I’m Renault. You always sit here, don’t you? What’s your name?”

She blinked at him, hardly comprehending what he was saying. He was asking her name. His hand was held out between them and, more out of politeness than a desire to be close to him, she stepped up and shook his hand. “I’m Sally.”

“You seem like you really like that book – I can’t understand it myself.” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. Sally’s eyes lit up and, before she could contain herself, she blurted out, “I could explain it to you!”

* * *

 

By the time Sally was nine, she and Renault were inseparable. He followed her everywhere, and she started jokingly referring to him as her “champion”. No one would bother Sally when Renault was around, and in return, she read him the Book, explaining anything he didn’t understand. Her father was attempting to arrange a tutor for her from the Capital City, but so far, none of the priests would take her, despite her father’s insistence that she was a prodigy.

She learned on her own, wounding small animals, then healing them, only to outright kill them and attempt to bring them back.

When her father caught her at this, he simply said that he didn’t think the Light would approve of such things.

“If it doesn’t approve, Father, why does it come when I call?”

He had no answer.

* * *

 

Renault’s father, Alexandros, agreed to teach Sally, since she was such a good friend to Renault, and they seemed to keep each other out of trouble. Even with word of a mysterious plague starting to creep up around their ears, Sally and Renault’s families had no expectations but for peace.

* * *

 

Sally was woken, not by a sound, but by silence – the light of the sun shining from too high in the sky flooded into her window, and she rolled over, groaning loudly and covering her face with a pillow. However, the lack of birds chirping, cocks crowing, or her parents speaking outside was distressing, though she wasn’t sure why.

She rolled out of her bed, still in her night clothes, and stretched, groaning again. There was what she thought was an echo at first, another groan behind hers, but it went on far too long, and the hair rose on the back of her neck. She backed away slightly from the door, pulling her ~~white cloud~~ hair back into a ponytail as quick as she could. There was a painful pit of terror in her stomach, and she reached out and picked up her Book for comfort.

Finally, she swallowed thickly and stalked forward, carefully reaching out and pushing the door open.

There was nothing in the hall that led from the bedrooms of the house to the main space of the house, and she walked towards the main room, clutching her Book, fear an insurmountable lump in her throat that she couldn’t even call out past if she wanted to.

She stepped out of the hall and almost walked face-first into… something.

Her mind couldn’t process it. It was her father, but not – dead, rotting, groaning, reaching for her as if he would hug her, but his empty, soulless eyes were hungry.

Sally screamed, stumbling backwards and holding up her hand. Light leapt from her fingers, singeing the creature that looked like a cruel caricature of her father and causing it to howl in pain. She screamed again, scrambling to try and pass the fiend in front of her. However, immediately behind it was another – an even more rotted thing, that had her mother’s hair.

Sally wailed in despair, picking her mother’s sheepherder’s crook that leaned against the wall and swinging it with one hand, holding her Book against her with the other. She prayed, fervently, and the Light responded, smiting the monsters that had replaced her parents. Between the beating from the crook and the Light’s purifying flame, they both collapsed, though they still crawled towards her, trying to reach for her.

_“Ssss...aaaaaaaa…”_

She set her Book on the ground behind her, gritting her teeth and raising the crook.

_“Sssssss…aaaaaaaaaaaa…llyyyyyyyyy…”_

She hesitated. They were her parents. They’d raised her. They’d _loved_ her. Even though she was different.

A hand, slimy with rot, wrapped around her bare ankle, and she shrieked, bringing the crook down on her father’s head until he moved no more.

She then turned to her mother, who was reaching out for her.

Those eyes weren’t so empty. They were pained, as if her mother was crying out for her help, as if she was hurting and needed to be healed.

Sally knew there would only be one way to relieve her pain.

* * *

 

“Father? We found a survivor, wandering the square. She…”

Alexandros looked up from the table in his tent. The Silver Hand had been camped out here for a day and a half, trying to decide what to do about the state of Southshore. His elder son, Renault, had gone into the town with a group of soldiers as assistance, so hearing his voice back so soon caught him off-guard, and he looked up, frowning.

His expression softened when he saw her. Sally – _white-mane_ , the other children had called her.

Now, her hair was red and black and white, stained with rotted blood and ichor, and she was clutching a Book of the Light and a shepherd’s crook, covered in the same. She was trembling, dazzling blue eyes wide. Renault had draped his cloak over her shoulders, and she still seemed to be in shock.

“Sally?”

Her eyes focused on him and she shivered again, clutching the Book and crook tighter.

“Was she the only one of her family?” Alexandros asked, turning to Renault.

The young man cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Her older sister was dead. Torn to pieces. Her parents… her parents had been infected. She killed them. Sir Beiron found documents indicating that her eldest sister was in the Capital City when it fell.”

Alexandros frowned. “Sally? Can you hear me?”

She nodded, slowly, and he offered her a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I’m going to take care of you, though, alright? I’ll make sure you’re safe. I promise.”

* * *

* * *

 

Four years.

Alexandros’ promise didn’t last. He died, mysteriously, and Sally, fresh from quarantine and confession, was handed over to a priest – Grand Inquisitor Isillien. He’d been told of her abilities – particularly, her healing abilities – and her torturous actions against animals – and even some people – as a child were detailed in her breathless confession, and intrigued him.

He determined her to be a pious and just soul, worthy of becoming his personal student.

She was to be initiated as the High Inquisitor, answering only to Isillien.

“ _Yes_. This will suit you well.”

He stepped around her, examining her outfit – barely concealing her body, showing off her youthful figure. To weed out the sinners, he’d told her as he’d given it to her, and she’d accepted without a word.

He had applied pigments to her face. To look more intimidating, he’d told her as he’d touched the brush to her lip, and she stayed perfectly still for him.

He had straightened her hair. “You look like a _cloud_ ,” he’d told her, “And it makes you look too soft.”

She never questioned.

He told her what was expected of her.

She was to obtain information that would aid the Crusade in destroying any of the undead that still roamed the world.

She would aid the Crusade in killing anyone who was _different_.


End file.
